All I know is that John Mayer has a song on his new album called "Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey," which just happens to be the name of a poem I posted on MySpace in 2008. You son of a bitch, John Mayer. You handsome, STD-riddled son of a bitch. Breaking every unstable girl's heart in Hollywood wasn't enough? You had to go ahead and steal my poem title? You dick. You unbelievable dick. And to think Brad cried at your concert. Whatever. Brad thinks you're a dick now too, by the way, you mouthy, cocky dick.
Fucking...first I called the music of The Bloodlit Stars "hip pop rocktronica" in 2004, and then, like three years later, Beck went ahead and called his new album's genre "hip hoptronica." Oh, was that your idea of a joke, you folk-jivin' whackadoodle? Am I the only person who sees right through the worst Hansen brother?
Oh, and then I thought it'd be cool to get down with Natalie Portman, and what does that melodramatic hipster gypsy asshole Devandra Banhart do? He fuckin' dates her! The guy looks like he's eternally tripping balls at Coachella and he got to get weird with Lady Black Swan. Fucking...ridiculous.
I tell ya, goddamn musicians are stealing all of my good ideas.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment